


twit

by cherrybing



Category: ONEUS (Band)
Genre: Angst, Break Up, Crying, M/M, Unrequited Love, with a happy ending-ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:08:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24712135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherrybing/pseuds/cherrybing
Summary: "hwanwoong smells like… not love. maybe something melancholic, bitter. like a dream — something beautiful but that youngjo can't quite reach no matter how much he tries to, no matter how much he feels like he already has touched it, because as soon as he wakes up, hwanwoong is vanished, out of reach."
Relationships: Kim Youngjo | Ravn/Yeo Hwanwoong
Comments: 7
Kudos: 22





	twit

**Author's Note:**

> this is very dramatic, i'm so sorry

youngjo takes a deep breath from hwanwoong's neck, the place he always curls himself into after they paint the walls with sex. hwanwoong smells like sweat, like his lavender soap, like the traces of his way too strong cologne that sticks to his skin even after washing it off, like fabric softener, the most expensive one from the shelf; like sex. hwanwoong will never smell like anything other than this, except maybe for when youngjo can feel the hint of someone else's cologne on his collarbones. 

hwanwoong also smells like… not love. maybe something melancholic, bitter. like a dream — something beautiful but that youngjo can't quite reach no matter how much he tries to, no matter how much he feels like he already has touched it, because as soon as he wakes up, hwanwoong is vanished, out of reach.

he can't let go, however — he tried so hard, so many times. but then hwanwoong sighs and smiles and slaps him during his laugh, and the necessity of having hwanwoong around sticks to his heart pushing away his common sense. it's not like he's even trying to get youngjo around his pinky finger, but it wasn’t hard for the oldest to get used to hang in there, as if it's home for his helpless heart. 

so youngjo hugs hwanwoong even closer, drunk senses taking him in even deeper till there's nothing for younjo to experience in life except hwanwoon’s loud presence. it’s a feeling strong enough to break his heart and glue it back together just to tear it apart once again.

holding hwanwoong by the waist, kissing his neck, competing for his attention with the 5 inches screen on his hand, youngjo has "love" imprinted all over his body, poking lightly from his goosebumps, right at the tip of his tongue, and no matter how much he tries to hold back, it seems impossible not to let hwanwoong know about the feeling spilling from his heart. 

“i love you” youngjo whispers against hwanwoong's skin.

an answer is not required, but hwanwoong still stirs on his place, and youngjo knows this is the moment his heart breaks again — he hopes hwanwoong has some glue to spare, although it’s hopeless.

“me too” is the weak reply he gets.

two little words that cut him so deeply, and maybe being ‘small’ and ‘sharp’ are immutable characteristics for everything hwanwoong is and does. 

hwanwoong still has his attention on his phone, amused by whatever dumb meme he sees on his timeline and youngjo _resents_ the cellphone, resents his airy laugh, resents hwanwoong’s body so hot against him. he's little if not completely unaware of how much his lack of _meaning_ hurts youngjo. how his "me too" sounds more like what you would say to an opinion about food than to such an honest love declaration. 

and youngjo knows his feelings are way more precious than this, knows the love he gives hwanwoong is so colorful and voluminous it deserves more than empty words. he would’ve prefered an honest silence then a half-hearted "me too".

suddenly his senses start to reject hwanwoong, because it all feels too much, his love hurts too deep, and it’s like he's going to drown on hwanwoong's scent; not in a good romanticized way, in the slightest. it's deadly, it makes his skin itchy, it rips his lungs whenever he tries to breath, it spills desperation all over his senses.

youngjo proceeds to get up, not answering to hwanwoong's inquisitive "hm?" when the agitation is felt. silenced, trying his best to be as strong as he was raised to be, he leaves the dark room. his steps take him to the kitchen, a glass of water sounding like a good idea — maybe his tears are going to see the water coming in and refrain themselves from falling down. 

they don't.

stupid, helpless, dumb. that's how youngjo feels. youngjo, who always thought he'd be putting himself first forever, who always thought he would be strong no matter what, who always thought of prioritizing himself before he can even be able to invest in someone else, breaking down in a million pieces because of the love someone else can't show him.

and he spends so much energy and attention on trying not to be noisy so hwanwoong won't listen and look at him with small inquisitive eyes that he barely realizes when they're already there, scrutinizing him.

"hyung" hwanwoong calls, pity coating his voice, and youngjo hates it with his guts. he doesn't move, doesn't get any closer, eyes remaining pointed towards the floor. "what— are you crying because I didn't say 'I love you too'? with all the words?" hwanwoong is crude with his words.

youngjo bites his lip, terrified of how dangerously low his guard is. he can barely recognize himself but maybe this is the thing about love. it's just that no love song romanticizing heartbreak warned him it would feel this awful. his voice sound shaky and high pitched when he tries to talk without shedding more tears. 

“it–it’s not about the way you say stuff, hwanwoong. you could write me a fucking 10 pages long love poem, the most beautiful and packed with complicated words. and still I wouldn’t believe in you.”

defensive, hwanwoong hugs himself, his voice resonating with traces of resentment, but it's still very small, as if he's ashamed of the feeling he can't help but portray.

“I don't know what you want from me, hyung."

and it's the wet eyes, the failing voice, the pain inside his chest that makes youngjo feel miniscule, powerless. so pitiful towards himself as if he’s watching the whole scene from a third point of view.

“I want you to actually love me”. 

hwanwoong takes a step back as if youngjo's words are a threat to him. his throat is on a tight knot now, his answer going back and forth in his mouth till he settles for the safest route; youngjo can sense that he’s affected. 

"I should gather my stuff and leave. we can talk later on the week."

and for the first time youngjo raises his head, desperation as he cries. 

“no, you don’t get to walk away, you don’t get to evade this!”

hwanwoong is taken aback, and maybe it was youngjo’s intensity that poked something fierce inside him.

“there’s nothing to talk about, hyung!”

“yes, there is. I wanna know what really is inside your heart for once, hwanwoong. I need to know because I can't stand being in the dark any longer. please."

youngjo is begging, morally on his knees and hwanwoong can't bring himself to look into his eyes because it's like looking at a car wreck with too much blood spilled over the pavement. he moves his hands around, trying to gather his thoughts before voicing them, and then runs his fingers through his hair, unsure of what comes next even though it comes from within himself. 

“I… I don’t— we knew this, youngjo, that it wouldn't last. from the very beginning. I told you I was in it just to have fun, that I wanted it to be casual, and I believed it when you told me you'd tone down your affection, that you would end things if you were too attached, that it would be nothing but mindless fun for both of us. but lately you’ve been dropping L bombs on me out of nowhere, and— and you get mad when I don't say anything, and you get mad when I say 'me too' and you would’ve got mad if I had said 'I love you' with every single word because I can't give you what you want from me. and... I'm so fucking sorry youngjo, I am, but I can't–" hwanwoong cuts himself with a deep breath, suddenly aware of how deep his words would cut youngjo’s heart if actually voiced out, and he’s not that cruel, at least not intentionally. but both of them know what would’ve come next. _I can't love you, hyung_. too heartbreaking, too honest. his tears now roll down his own cheeks in solidarity to youngjo's, voice sounding wet as he continues to talk, reason trying to float above his tears "and it's not your fault. but at the same time, I have never promised you anything like that."

youngjo looks as if he had just been punched on the throat. disoriented, betrayed, agonizing; but not actually surprised, because he saw the fist coming. he sounds like this as well when he pleads for something even his mind isn't sure of what it is. 

“I know, I know, but please—” 

and suddenly it's hwanwoong's turn to look and sound desperate. “no, no _please_. you should have some sense of self-preservation, hyung. this relationship is ruining you and it hurts me to see how invested you are when I have been trying my best to… to push you away, to protect you from this very moment we're having right now.”

looking into his eyes, youngjo knows exactly what hwanwoong means. he can see himself in a future where this conversation never happened: a future where he's fed up with hwanwoong's constant indifference, so he takes him to a café and tells him everything is over, that they shouldn't talk anymore, that he’d be delivering hwanwoong’s stuff at his apartment next afternoon. and it's so cathartic in his imagination. it makes him born again, a new and stronger youngjo, all the anger that had been building up inside his now tough heart released onto hwanwoong at that moment. a relationship ending in anger and realization, not in sadness. 

instead, he's sobbing, heartbroken, clinging into hwanwoong and whatever scraps of affection he has to spare in all his mercy. 

he hiccups, his desperate voice barely floating into hwanwoong's ears. 

“but you’ve been here all this time, you’re here right now. it means something, it has to mean something.” 

“it means that I let myself get carried away with you.” youngjo takes solace on the fact that hwanwoong’s voice sounds desperate as well. “you're so sweet, so good to me in a way I have never deserved. I couldn't stand to hear people talking about how great of a couple we would be anymore. I couldn't stand to hear about how mean I was to reject you once again. so I gave in because I thought it would work out, because I thought it would be fun; I shouldn’t have. this is my responsibility, my fucking fault, but this is what happened and we can’t go back. but christ, hyung, we can’t keep up with how things are right now either. I can't keep on hurting you over and over.”

there are a lot of thoughts roaming across youngjo's mind, and somewhere in there he agrees with hwanwoong. he had seen it coming, every single word, every lack of them. but it still makes him bleed in deep crimson, each breath too harsh and heavy against his lungs’ walls. still, even with all this sorrow, the will to keep hwanwoong close is stronger than his rationality, a bad addiction he can’t get rid of. 

“I'm getting my stuff and I’m leaving, because this is the best for us right now.” hwanwoong sounds as sober as he can sound with a shaky voice, and he turns his back before youngjo’s hand can even stretch in an attempt to reach for him.

there's no strength nor reason for youngjo's legs to keep him standing; before he can even think about it, he's dropped on the floor, holding his knees against his chest, curled up in a pity ball. his sobs are loud, childish, conveying nothing but pain, and he looks like the teenager hwanwoong always made him feel, in the worst way as possible.

it's humiliating, his heart burning in need for something – someone – that serves him no good. the thought of how much power hwanwoong has over him is scary; the prospect of hwanwoong leaving once and for all, though, is _terrifying_.

he sees rather than hears hwanwoong’s feet approaching him back in unsure steps. his eyes are lazy as they go up, because seeing hwanwoong in the clothes he first came in with last night turns this painful moment into reality rather than a disgraceful nightmare. when hwanwoong squats in front of him, youngjo sees a glimpse of his face — swollen eyes and red nose — before forcing his eyes down.

“hyung” hwanwoong calls, soft voice coated in mercy, and this is the most gentle youngjo has seen him in a while. hwanwoong takes youngjo’s face, caressing his cheeks with his thumbs. “look at me.”

youngjo is reluctant, knowing very well what comes next — he looks into hwanwoongs eyes and all the newfound fondness inside them makes hiccups rock his body, rationality shutting off and emotional rambling taking over his tongue, because _this_ is the hwanwoong he always wanted, and this is the hwanwoong saying goodbye to him.. 

“don’t leave me, please.” he whispers. hwanwoong shakes his head like you do when a child starts to cry because they took a joke too serious. “it’s okay if you don’t love me back, I can love for the both of us, I just get sad sometimes, but I swear—” 

“hyung, no” hwanwoong cries, desperate again, caring too much for youngjo to take in his words with indifference. “you should never settle for this, never, please.”

hwanwoong can’t say what brings him to kiss youngjo’s forehead, but maybe he just wanted to hide his own tears.

“I’m so sorry for failing you, hyung.”

“don’t say this” youngjo whispers from below.

“you know it’s true.” hwanwoong brings himself to wipe away his tears, but his eyelashes are still wet when youngjo can see his face again. he sounds soft like a lullaby, maybe trying not to scare youngjo into another rampant. “maybe we can talk about this later over a coffee, what do you think about it? when our minds are clearer.”

“I don’t want to…”

“I’ll let you think about it, hm.” his hands caress youngjo’s face, and the oldest holds them closer to his face, tears making the soft fingers wet. for the first time in so long, hwanwoong is taken to the beginning, when they were just friends — when they were _good_ to each other. “call geonhak, tell him to bring in some beers. I don’t want you to spend this night alone when you’re like this.”

youngjo nods, not really sure if he actually has the will to do so, to let anyone else witness such a miserable sight.

hwanwoong bites his lip before talking again. 

“I’m so sorry. I really am.” hwanwoong whispers, tilting youngjo’s chin up so he inevitably looks into his eyes, and there's truth to his voice. “but you’ll be fine, ok? I believe in you.”

those are words that bring a breath of serenity into youngjo’s heart, the thought of not disappointing hwanwoong and being actually fine moving him towards acceptance in a weird way. it lasts only a moment, however.

hwanwoong leaves with heavy steps, taking everything he owns in his backpack — it’s not much, as he always resisted settling for real at youngjo’s place, maybe thinking in a pragmatic way about the day he’d have to inevitably leave. he has always been defensive like that.

it doesn’t take too long until geonhak arrives with beers, although youngjo never touched his phone to call him over in the first place, too busy trying to get himself to stop crying only to find himself sobbing again. geonhak is never the person with the highest level of emotional intelligence at the table, but he’s sensitive enough to avoid talking about the fact that youngjo is a mess and not even once he mentions hwanwoong.

youngjo allows himself to drink, to let himself get distracted whenever geonhak rambles about whatever trivial subject crosses his mind, to suffer again when the friend leaves and he’s all alone.

next morning, youngjo feels sore, eyes puffy, nose clogged, and it’s awful, it really is. his pillow still smells like hwanwoong.

next week, he feels empty, no one to send silly messages to, no one pour his love nor his sadness all over. he thinks about how he used to suffer with hwanwoong, but he would also get the reward of having him around. now, there’s only heartbreak. it’s beyond awful.

next month, his heart sinks dense in his chest when he spots hwanwoong at keonhee’s house party, laughing and making other people laugh, being exactly the man youngjo fell in love with. he sees youngjo, flashes him a polite smile when they finally face each other and his eyes are gentle as if they’re making sure everything is okay. youngjo smiles back, a cheap imitation of contentment, and it’s clear that everything is not okay, at least not yet.

next year, and youngjo finally understands why everything had to go down the way it did, why it wouldn’t work no matter how hard he had tried. he learns how to truly evaluate himself. it takes him a year of growth to see hwanwoong around and smile an honest smile, ask him about his life and get excited to tell hwanwoong about his’, because everything is finally okay now, it really is. 

**Author's Note:**

> ❤︎  
>  if you have any thoughts, let me know!  
> ❤︎


End file.
